


One Way Ticket

by almostclevernerd



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Daddy Issues, Developing Relationship, Drugs, Explicit Language, Human AU, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Other stuff that I will eventually tag but can't think of right now, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Secret Relationship, Sex, UKUS, USUK - Freeform, libertea
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 12:07:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9895802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almostclevernerd/pseuds/almostclevernerd
Summary: For some people, leaving their lives behind is devastating, whether intentional or not. For Arthur Kirkland, it's a chance to change everything. Even if he needs to deal with a nuisance following him everywhere he goes. Follow these two as they travel, discover many secrets the world holds and build a bond that might even last. (A/N: T+ for now. Explicit in later chapters.)





	1. Prologue: Bitter farewells, sour hellos

I don’t consider myself a lucky person, however, I can confirm that unlucky people tend to be the luckiest people in the world. It’s the same as pessimists. They are either right, or pleasantly surprised. I have been followed by a streak of bad luck my entire life. From that one time I slipped on the sidewalk while taking a walk by the river bank and fell into the cold, muddy water; to the one time I pretended to be cool and got run over by a cyclist. Both of those things will be stories for another time.

Why am I so lucky? Well, I just won the lottery. I know, it’s crazy. I was one of those people who thought lotteries were set up by the government so only a few select people actually ever won. But then I found myself winning, and, despite all odds, I was not happy. Sure, seeing such a big number with so many zeros was lovely. But after a while (approximately a minute) I realised that I am fucked. No one knew that I won until a couple of days later. I didn’t plan to really tell anyone. Everyone knows what happens to people who actually win. 

Sex, drugs, alcohol abuse. Hookers and parties, houses and condos in the most luxurious places in the world. Almost 10 million pounds is a big win, and I do have an addictive personality. I have more than an addictive personality. I’m a smoker, I was on the verge of becoming an alcoholic. I delved into drugs in my late university years, and I don’t mean the light stuff. Oh no. So being presented with that much money is any addict's dream. I can have all the things I could only have dreamt of!

Despite all that, I made a good decision. I put my money into an account, and only took around two hundred thousand. It sounds like a big number, but for what I am about to do with my life, it might as well be five quid. 

 

“Arthur, I don’t think this is a good idea, dear,” my darling mother spoke as I packed a few of my clothes into a suitcase. “You are really just going to leave? You just got this job, honey. I don’t think it’s a good idea to just get up and leave!” She sounded desperate. I understand her. She’s a mother of five boys, all of whom are rebellious in their own way. Starting from the youngest, Peter, who dropped out of high school to pursue a career in professional sports… swimming. Dylan, who at the age of 24 got married, divorced, lost two jobs and ended up in debt, and is now living in his parent’s basement. Seamus, the one who left the family years ago and ran away with a girl who was trouble from the start. I’m not sure where he is now… Then there’s Allistor. The "alcoholic." The one who calls our poor mother at odd times to cry or yell about things that rarely make sense. I might be calling him an alcoholic and making it sound like he truly is one, but he’s just a man who is drunk even when he’s sober.

And of course, there’s me. Arthur. The one who had a future. The lawyer, the one with a fiancée and the one who could save the Kirkland family name and finally give it back the respect that Mr. Kirkland and his father had accomplished. The only good son. The one… the only one… Who is leaving the family, and discarding his life, his fiancée and everything he’s ever worked for. 

“Mum…” I started softly, looking at my mother with the same amount of concern that she is showing toward me. I was always coddled, I am even now as an adult. Especially by her. 

“I don’t understand, Arthur. I thought you were happy. What about darling Francine? What are you doing to her, love? She’s hurting… She called me earlier, you know? She sounded broken.” Mum asked, desperation now leaking into her voice. She watched as I frowned and continued packing my suitcase, a stoic look on my face soon replacing the one of dissatisfaction.

“Mum. I am not leaving forever. I am not leaving Francine, or the family, or my future career.” I inhaled deeply, trying to level the rush of guilt. I am not going to let this opportunity pass me by. I am not going to turn my back on my life. My boring, stale life. Lonely life…

“Then what are you doing? Pretending to be a teen? Taking a gap year?” 

“No… I just need to… see the world, you know? I’m only twenty-three, mum. Do I need to get married? Do I need to settle down and buy a house and have children at twenty-three?” I began to question how much I want any of that at any age. I mean, was marriage necessary? What about children? I love children, but there’s plenty of those around. 

“Are you getting cold feet? Is that it? You’re scared so you’re going to clear your head a bit…?” I looked at my mother with a cold look. She was trying to make me feel even guiltier. I can see the words forming on her lips already. Francine will be hurt, Francine will suffer. What are you doing to the poor girl. You’ve been together for ten years. You can’t just leave. You can’t. You can’t. You can’t.

“No. I just need some time to myself. Mum… could you please… leave? I’m sorry, I just want to think for a while. A long, long while.” She stayed for another minute as I pretended to ignore her existence and continued packing. She eventually gave up and left with slumped shoulders. I understand her. She "lost" her children, all too prematurely to one thing or another. She had plans for us. 

I adore my mother. She is kind, gentle and caring. She’s a lovely woman, even though she can be a bit controlling sometimes. But even with all the love I feel for her, I realise that she is not always the nicest. She wanted her children to be something we would never be. Doctors, lawyers, even bankers and founders of the next big company. She had high expectations, and seeing us not meet any of them, or coming close then giving up, it must be devastating. For her.

 

It took me around an hour to finish packing. I kept looking through closets to find things I might need, but ended up stumbling upon my old childhood memories in each old bag, box or plastic crate I found. Being a child is a lot easier. There aren’t a lot of worries on your mind. Hell, I am still a child. I am an adult, but I feel like I am still a teen. A teen whose voice doesn’t go up a few octaves when he’s around pretty girls. A teen who pretends that he knows how to buy a house and how to sign contracts and how to pay bills without looking it up online. "Pretends," of course, being the key word.

 

“Arthur! I made some tea. Come down for a chat!” I heard my mum call. I packed away the rest of my things and put them aside to be forgotten for another few years. I walked down the stairs and went to the kitchen, trying to go over every possible conversation I will have with my mother. Where I’m going. Who I’m going with. Why I’m going. When I’m coming back. Where I get the money from. Why so suddenly. How I plan to handle being on my own.

In the span of a second, I thought of every question and answer before she even had time to look at me when I walked into the kitchen. She pours us two cups of tea and sets my cup down on my usual spot, and hers on her spot. “I am sorry for jumping at you earlier, Arthur.” She began talking, but I already knew the apologies and the way she would skillfully draw everything out of me that she needed to know.

“Stop, please. I’ll just… tell you everything, okay? Just don’t freak out.” Worry crossed her features, but she remained silent. “Thank you.” I took a deep breath, readying myself for everything I wanted to say and how smoothly I wanted to say it. “I got ten million in a bank account and I am leaving because I can.” Maybe smooth wasn’t the right formulation of words.

There was silence, tense enough to be cut by a knife, before she burst out laughing. Oh, I guess I didn’t prepare for that outcome. Laughter. Ridicule. I don’t know why I thought she would think I was serious. I guess because I am not one to crack jokes at every opportunity. 

“Mum, I’m serious.” I muttered and looked down at my tea. A single leaf was floating about, and I wanted it to twist its form and turn into something more pleasant to look at. Maybe a flower, or a raven, or a dragon… Mum’s laughter came to a halt. She knew me well enough to know that if I didn’t start laughing after a few seconds too, that I really am serious. 

“I thought you were against playing the lottery…” It sounded as if she wanted the sentence to be a question, but she was too busy studying my face at the same time. I could see it out the corner of my eye. She was trying to understand.

“You’re acting like it’s a bad thing.” I remind her.

“It clearly isn’t a bad thing, love, but… That is a lot of money. What do you plan to do with it?” 

I shrug. Honestly, I don’t know. My current plan is to disappear for a while. A year, or two. Maybe look if I can be happier somewhere else. Maybe with someone else. “I guess I just want to travel. You know I always wanted to go on a big adventure on my own.” I smiled almost hopefully as I look up at my mother’s face. She had yet to react with anything aside from shock.

“I guess you were always the type who wanted that, even more than Seamus.” 

“He ran away, he didn’t go out to explore the world. Don’t compare me to him.” I sounded more agitated than I wanted to. Seamus had always been a sore spot for all of us when he was brought up in conversation. It was better to leave ghosts alone. At least that way all they can really do is haunt you, and not pester you with a constant, annoying and physical presence.

Mum took my tone as a warning and drank her tea in relative silence. As if in sync, we both grabbed our boxes of cigarettes and reached for the same lighter. Once we realised that we can’t both grab it, we smiled at each other and I let her take it first. She lit her cigarettes with a flick of the Zippo and then handed it to me. Some of the tension was gone. Good.

“Arthur, you know that I love you. And even with all that money, you know that it won’t make you happy…”

I mimicked her actions before setting the small metal light aside. “That is why I am doing this. I got this money and I need to think. I don’t want to be too quick to invest or spend it. I’ll just take some of it and travel. I’ll limit myself to around two hundred thousand and then… when I spend that, or when I get sick of travelling, I will come back home.” 

There was a light of hope in her eyes. She observed me carefully, as if she were afraid she’d lose track of me as soon as she blinked or looked away.

“I need some time to think. Alone. I’ll come back. I’ll resume my job. I’ll marry Francine. I’ll buy a house and start a family. I still want all of that. I don’t feel forced to be where I am now. But I’m also too young for all of that, mum. All I want is a year…”

She cut me off before I had a chance to continue. “Yes, darling, but why don’t you take Francine-”

I frowned, and even though I didn’t mean to, I raised my voice slightly. “I want to be alone for a while. If I wanted her to come with me, I would take her along.”

That seemed to have upset her, as she crossed her arms and brought the hand holding the cigarette close to her lips, but she didn’t do more than that. It’s her ‘I’m thinking about what to do and how to fix the problem at hand’ position. I hated it ever since I was a child.

Before she had much time to retaliate, I got up and opened the door leading to the balcony. It’s a chilly day out. Sweater weather, but not exactly enough for a scarf and gloves. I heard movement coming from the kitchen. Mum was clearing away our teacups, which by now were cold or empty anyway. 

She will figure out one day why I did this. And when she does, maybe she will be happy that I allowed myself to have some freedom.

 

After the initial shock of “Arthur is a millionair” and “Arthur is leaving soon” ended, my parents were almost too eager to get rid of me. In fact, they were so eager, that I stayed the last of my two days in London with my fiancée. 

Francine is a lovely woman, much like every other woman who had been of any sort of significant in my life. She is intelligent, always in control, powerful and confident. She is the type of woman who, if you gave her the key to the world, she would take it and rule it like a true queen. In other words… she is way out of my league. 

Frankly, I don’t understand what a woman as gorgeous and independent was doing with a guy like me. Compared to her, I am still like a teen, stuck in some sort of loop, acting like I am more mature than I truly am. She could have left me for any other better looking and more successful guy. She was always the centre of attention. She was always the type of person people gravitated toward.

Yet, since we were both mere preteens, we’ve been in a relationship. Well… okay, technically we really started dating when we turned fifteen and we started to actually become interested in the opposite sex for real. Before that, we were together in the thirteen/fourteen year old sense. Holding hands and making out in the closed-mouthed way as every other kid at that age. 

We grew used to each other. We act natural around each other. We’ve always been married before I even proposed to her. We’ve lived together while we were at college, and the only reason we’re not living together now is because we wanted to leave our old flat and look for a new one together while, temporarily, living with our parents separately. It worked out great so far.

But now, as I’m standing near the security line at the airport, Francine looking at me as if she knows more than I do, I feel like all those years of being together meant nothing. As if all of our countless months lead to this single point. Why did a temporary goodbye feel like it was going to be a lifelong farewell? 

Francine… No matter how much I try to look into her, she is far more difficult to read than any other person alive. She is one of the many secrets of the universe I would never figure out. Try as I might. 

We hugged. We kissed. I promised to call. She promised to text. We hugged again. We kissed again. We held hands until the seconds melted into minutes and I had to go. I turned around and started walking away. She watched until I was lost in the crowd and looking over my shoulder yielded in nothing but a mass of unknown faces. 

 

I decided that my first destination would be the USA. The home of the free and land of the brave. That’s how that saying goes, right? Or was it the land of the free and home of the brave? I frankly don’t know. The one thing I do notice is that, even though I landed in NYC in just another airport, everything feels so much more American. Was that weird to say?

I wandered around the rather large airport for a long time until I finally decided to exit and look for a hotel. Finding a cab and telling the driver to just take me to the nearest four star hotel (one which wasn’t a busy airport hotel), was the easy part. The hardest part was paying. Like a moron, I didn’t exchange any currency. I was stuck paying with my card, which almost got rejected for some strange reason. Maybe it’s just my paranoia. 

Once in the hotel, I asked for a single, and after taking care of the paperwork, I received my key and was told to wait for the bellboy to take my luggage for me. I only had one suitcase and a backpack, so I said it was fine, I can find my way on my own, but my room was being cleaned anyway so I might as well wait....

That is when I met him. Perhaps the biggest annoyance I would ever meet. Taller than me by maybe an inch, broader than me, more muscular than me, and, of course, more blond than  me. Blue eyes and blond hair. How very American. A pretty boy working a job probably just to get some money for college or something. This kid couldn’t be older than eighteen… Nineteen would be pushing it.    
But enough about how handsome this bastard looked. Let’s talk about how he managed to grab my wallet and cause me a whole day of stress.


	2. Chapter 1 - Your confidence is your balaclava

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life is tricky. But is risk worth it? No, not really. 
> 
> Alfred is added to the party.

I learnt that his name is Alfred within the first few seconds of seeing him. He had a stunning smile, I have to admit. He had the most  charming  smile I’ve ever had the privilege of witnessing. He chattered about the hotel for a long time as he effortlessly pulled my suitcase along. I wasn’t paying attention. Great staff? Great service? Decorations? I caught snippets of each sentence that came out of his mouth, but I was far too tired to care.

It seemed as if he was dragging me along every single hallway of the hotel without an objective. Maybe I was just imagining it. Eventually we did end up in front of a room door, which he oh-so gentlemanly unlocked for me. I struggled between choosing if he was patronising me or if he was told to do so for every guest. Either way, did they think I don’t know how to use a key card? 

“And this is your room!” Alfred exclaimed in a far too bright voice. I observed his face for a while, noting the crinkling around his eyes. He was being earnest. How could a person have an honest smile on their face while working? I understand it’s a policy, but really? This kid must be that full of life.

“I can see that, thank you.” I said and took the wallet out of my jeans’ back pocket. I came to the realisation, once again, that I did not exchange any currency. I looked into my wallet with a frown and thought for a moment if it would be appropriate to tip the boy in pounds. He couldn’t be offended by that, right? It’s just money. I took out a five pounds note and held it out for Alfred.

This is where my bad luck comes into play. I mentioned that I had bad luck, and that my streak of bad luck was broken but one very, very lucky thing. Well, apparently my luck returned to normal because even before I had a moment to notice what was going on, my wallet was ripped out of my hands. I stood shocked for a moment and watched as the blond ran down the hallway.

Once the initial shock was over, I ran right after him, leaving my suitcase and backpack behind. Damn, was he a good runner. I didn’t lose him, though, as I usually pride myself for my surprisingly sporty nature. I wasn’t the captain of every football team I was ever on for no reason, you know? 

Back to the problem at hand. This is where I am now. Running after a thief through a large hotel which he seemed to know very well. He ran down some stairs, I stumbled after him. He turned a sharp corner, I almost crashed into the wall. He had this planned… I’m almost certain he dragged me through this route on the way to the room. Every one of his moves was calculated. Each step was eloquent, precise, earning him the upper hand compared to my sloppy footwork. 

Eventually he began running up some stairs. Staff only, it read. I didn’t pause even as the heavy metal door almost slammed in my face. I ripped it open and dashed after him, skipping two stairs at a time to catch up to him. After around three flights of stairs, I realised he was now going to the roof. Did he bail on running out of the hotel through the front door? It wouldn’t make sense, that was true. The receptionist, along with other staff, would see him running from a guest. Maybe this, too, was planned. He did seem confused once we reached the roof. 

I was panting, completely drenched in sweat. I’m a bit out of shape. “If you give me my wallet back now, I may not call the police.” I breathed out heavily, now stepping toward this kid as he looked around, mostly focusing on the fire escape. “I have your full name and I know how you look like, you little piece of shit. Do you think you can get away with this?” I wanted to sound more angry or threatening. I guess my anger melted together with my stamina. 

Panic was obviously flashing across Alfred’s face as he backed up almost to the edge of the roof. He’s not dumb enough to jump. I don’t even have that much money in my wallet. Though my card’s there… I followed him. Maybe if I corner him. He didn’t react, but he did grasp the wallet a little tighter in his first. “Back off!” He yelled eventually, probably thinking I would flinch at the volume of his voice or something similar to that. 

“Yeah, why would I?” I growled.

“Because- Because-” He stammered. Was I intimidating him? Did he just forget what he wanted to do or where he wanted to go? 

I took my opportunity and grabbed the wallet, now engaging into a tug of war with this kid. Seriously? You’re cornered! Cornered! Apparently that, and the proximity to the roof’s edge, was not enough to stop him from persisting. How typical of a stubborn American.

We dragged each other around for what felt like at least five minutes before I managed to use his sweaty and slippery hands to my advantage and bump my shoulder into his. He let go and, for a long moment as I stuffed the wallet away into my pocket, he took another step back. Then another. He was maybe one step away from hitting the rim of the roof. 

“You’re in a ton of trouble, you know?” I asked and took out my phone, about to call the police. 

“Wait! Wait, wait, okay, hold on.” He started to stammer again, trying to think of what to say most likely.  I suppose he didn’t want to go to jail. That’s fair enough. Why would anyone want that? Shitty meals and shitty people all in one place, plus guards who aren’t always moral. 

I crossed my arms and waited for him to continue talking, to somehow defend himself if he could. The silence stretched into a minute, then two, and I began to get agitated. “Well?” I urged, my frown deepening. Mind I note, I was always told that my normal resting face was much akin a frown. A resting bitch face is what I was told it was. I learnt to live with it.

“Okay so I just wanted to take like some of your money and then have a friend return the wallet but like I only need the money to pay rent and I would have maybe given it back when I get my paycheck and I didn’t want to be rude or steal it I mean I am a good guy you know dude I really am a good guy really.” This was one long, hurried rush of words with no structure. He really was desperate. I am a kind person. I probably would have given him some money for rent. I have enough to help a person once. 

“...Am I supposed to pity you? You just stole my wallet. You stole it and you tried to get away. While working. This is your job and you would have lost it in an instant if anyone found out that you were trying to steal from a guest. Don’t you feel any shame? I can report you now and you’d be without a job, you know?” 

Guilt was far from the reaction I received. The American just shrugged, carelessly. Was this some sort of game? He was flipping through emotions. Guilt, panic, apathy. What a mess…

“Whatever, dude. Do what you want. I was gonna be fired anyway.” Alfred said, the apathy shining through once more. 

“What about going to jail? You don’t care about that? Prison, even? Theft, it’s not a small deal.”

A moment of silence passed. Alfred shifted his weight and looked around, eyes landing once more on the fire escape. “Not like I can pay rent anyway.” 

I frowned, taking a step back to show that I don’t mean to be aggressive. This bloke sure has a few things going wrong with his life. He reminds me of my brother, Allistor that is. He’s the type who wouldn’t be able to pay rent and wouldn’t care if he ended up in jail. Anger wanted to burst through me, but I repressed it. No point in getting angry at a good for nothing idiot who just reminded me a bit of my eldest sibling. 

“Well, whatever. You’re lucky.” I said under my breath. To be honest, I felt sorry for the kid. I would have done the same if pressure got to me. Paying for rent, bills and just general life necessities can be difficult. “Don’t get in trouble, kid. You really don’t need that burden on your back, too. It’s just not worth it.”

I then backed off and walked to the entrance of the building. I glanced over my shoulder. Alfred was still standing there and it didn’t look like he had any intent on moving yet. I opened the door and walked back into the building.

 

I fell asleep around nine or so in the evening. The sun had already set and my room was dark and empty. It was eerie, as I had never been in a hotel on my own before. But sleep overpowered my fear and paranoia, and before I knew it, I was awake again, with the time on my phone reading 9:20 AM.

 

After a quick shower, I walked down to the lobby and into the breakfast hall. I only had twenty minutes to eat up at that point. I grabbed some food and sat down, but was soon greeted by none other than the guy who so smoothly tried to steal my wallet. He didn’t do more than politely greet me, as he would any guest, but his eyes did linger on me. I didn’t answer and held myself back from sending him a death glare. 

After I ate up, I began walking back to my room, and passed, you guessed it, Alfred once more. His eyes lingered on me again as I passed. I made no eye contact. The same thing continued for the next two days. Between sightseeing and talking with my family over the shitty hotel WiFi, I spent a lot of time roaming the hotel hallways. Once I saw everything in the nearby area of the hotel, I didn’t really know what else to do. NYC is huge, and I could spend another week here just exploring the city. 

Each and every day, it seemed that wherever I went, Alfred was there. Hell, I even saw him on the street while sightseeing. That could have been my paranoia, but I was certain that whoever it was, was staring at me with some intent. 

Eventually on my fourth day, I approached Alfred during the slow hours. Alfred looked at me boredly, until he realised that I had a reason for coming up to him specifically. He backed off and I swear I saw him swallow nervously. “What?” He asked, somewhat politely, and shot me a brief glare. As if I was following him around for the past few days! 

“You’ve been _stalking_ me.” I accuse.

“What the fuck are you talking about, dude? I don’t stalk people.” He answered, standing a bit taller. 

“Uhh, right. Then why have I been seeing you literally everywhere I go? I bet you’ve got no business in the spa area, or the pool, or the gym and yet, you were there exactly when I was!” 

“Oh fuck off. I _work_ here. Of course I’ll be everywhere.” 

That was about all I could handle before I wanted to throw the guy against a wall and punch his nose in. I don’t know why his answers angered me more than when he stole my wallet. “Yeah, as a fucking _bellboy_!”

He drew in a sharp breath and looked around. “Look, man, I’m just doing my job ‘round here. Just ‘cause you think I’m trying to nick your shit again doesn’t mean that I am.” 

I left it at that. I guess I could have been a bit paranoid. The guy didn’t really get close to me. He just...stood around a lot and stared. Maybe he did have business to do wherever I was and we happened to cross paths coincidentally. 

 

Except for the next two days, the same thing repeated. I didn’t care if I was paranoid or he really just had work to do. I walked up to him that afternoon and breathed out a deep sigh. “You smoke?” I asked, planning on taking the guy out so we can chat, again. I knew it’d be fruitless, but maybe it was worth a try. He could... _maybe_ end up being a decent guy. When I don’t accuse him of anything. 

Alfred raised an eyebrow at me, then looked down at his watch. I assume that meant something to him, because he told a nearby coworker that he’d be taking a small break. “Yeah, I do.” He said, then gestured for me to follow him. “If you give me the cigarette, that is.” 

I knew it. He’d be the beggar type. Whatever, I won’t suffer from losing one cigarette. Once we’re outside, near the back right corner of the building, I take out my box of cigarettes and offer one to him. “ _Mints?_ Are you fucking serious?” He asks, teasingly.

“Take it or leave it.” I add as I light my own fag and inhale deeply.

“So, what do you want? To throw more accusations at me?” He asked, bitterly, mimicking my actions of lighting the cigarette. 

“Not even a thank you?” 

He rolled his eyes and added a very forced “thank you,” but not more than that. 

“So what do you want?”

“I don’t know. Maybe an apology. Explanation. You can’t be serious when you say that you never follow me. That’d be fucking impossible. I see you everywhere.” 

I swear, even without looking, I saw him roll his eyes. “No. I don’t follow you. I don’t give a fuck about you.” It sounded fake. I didn’t comment on it, though.

“Fine. Whatever. Never mind. How old are you, anyway?” 

“21. I’m not supposed to share personal information with guests, though.” He paused. “But whatever. How ‘bout you?” 

It was only fair that I answer, too. Though I felt a bit more vulnerable. “23.” I said, voice drained of any meaning. Am I really just chatting with this guy now? 

Silence stretched for a while and we smoked in mutual silence which, if I may be honest, was a lot less uncomfortable than I thought it would be. I looked at Alfred every now and again and I saw him looking back with some interest quite a few times. It seemed like he wanted to ask something. 

“So what are you doing here? You’re obviously...British, or Australian or something like that.” I wanted to slap him. He’s just another oblivious American, so never mind.

“English. I’m English. And I’m… travelling. You know… About to see the world and whatnot.” 

He nodded and walked somewhere behind me. I felt a stab of panic, but he only got one of the ashtrays he and his coworkers probably used and put it on a nearby trashcan. 

“So where have you been so far? You look like one of those rich British posh lads or whatever you call ‘em.” 

I snorted loudly and almost choked on the smoke coming out of my lungs. “Yeah, well I’m not. And this is actually my first destination. I’ll probably go somewhere else soon. Maybe… I don’t know… Somewhere. I have no plan. I’m just travelling.” 

“So you are a rich guy if you can just go somewhere whenever you want.”

I frown. “You’d know how much money I had if you peeked in my wallet like you seemed to want to.” 

“I gave it fucking back! _Let it go_ , for fucks sake.” 

I smirked to myself. He’s easy to rile up. “Whoa, calm down. I’m just saying. But no, I am not. I just worked and saved money so I can get enough to travel. Nothing special…” Worked? I rarely worked. My parents are well off and I never really felt the need to get a job. They were more than happy to give me a rather generous allowance.

“Whatever.” Alfred mumbled, and I swear he sounded bitter. Life must be hard on this one.

“So you go to college?” I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me. 

Alfred shook his head and extinguished his cigarette. I followed right after. I offered him another, and he took it without hesitation. He did comment on how mint cigarettes are disgusting. I remarked that he doesn’t have to take them if he doesn’t want them. 

We chatted for a while. He told me a bit about himself, though it was hardly enough to make me build a picture of who he might be as a person. He sounded just bitter because of life. In general. I tried asking more, to find out more about him. He didn’t give in to any of my prodding. 

After chatting for half an hour, he was called back inside to continue working. I left to go out for dinner. 

 

Surprisingly enough, that was not the only time we spoke. We met up almost every day for the rest of the week. The conversations we had were not special, but they somehow made me look forward to seeing Alfred. Despite his horrible first impression, he was a decent guy. He had a great sense of humour and his taste in music was good. In my opinion, at least. 

I had stayed longer in NYC than I planned to. I realised that my hotel bill will be a bit higher than I expect it to be. So it was my last day, which I decided to spend in the hotel itself. I’ve already seen everything I cared about. New York is a nice city, and while I am not attracted to the nightlife that I missed out on, I guess I can see why it would be appealing to some. 

“So you’re leaving, huh?” Alfred asked me. This time, we were seated in the smoking lounge of the hotel. Technically, Alfred had told me, he was not allowed in there. But he didn’t think it would matter much. Not really. I didn’t care. It’s his problem.

“Yeah, tomorrow morning.” I added, leaning back into the soft couch and looking around. It was empty. Considering the hotel was almost empty, I am not surprised. Not a lot of things surprise me. 

Silence filled the room from then on. It felt a lot heavier, the silence, now than it usually does. The look on Alfred’s face was unreadable, but I guess that he was stuck deep in thought. 

“Where are you going?” 

“Florida, probably. My mum always wanted to go to Miami… I’ll probably just stay three days, see what’s so interesting, and then fly out to Las Vegas. I’ve always wanted to see the city, and the Grand Canyon… Then I’ll be going around California for a while and then… South America. I have a friend in Brazil, so… that’ll be my first destination outside the US, probably.” 

He nodded along as I spoke, but he still seemed so lost in thought. I was just about to ask him what was on his mind, when he looked into my eyes.

“I’m coming with you.” He declared. 

I stared at him. Then I laughed. “Yeah, sure. You almost got me there, Al. That’s funny…”

“I am serious, asshole. I’m coming with you.” 

 

That’s not what I expected. Not at all. But that’s how I gained a parasite. One who I couldn’t shake off no matter what. I still thought it was all a joke, until the following morning, when I saw Alfred waiting for me with a suitcase outside the hotel doors. 

“Ready to go?”

I wasn’t ready for anything that might follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of Arthur's POV! Next chapter will be written in third person. (Finally)

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning: 
> 
> English is not my native language. Don't expect me to use British slang (well or at all at times.) I will update this story every day until the 1st of March, and then I'll see if it'll be every other day, once a week or once a year. ;)


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